


A Lovely Way To Burn

by cuttooth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Double Penetration in One Hole, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Oral Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Season One Timeline, Sex Toys, Threesome, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttooth/pseuds/cuttooth
Summary: As Jon starts to get to his feet, Elias’ hand lands on his shoulder, pressing him back down. Jon goes, unsure if he’s about to be fired or just scolded.“You could go home,” Elias says thoughtfully. “Spend the next couple of days aching and miserable, until the heat finally burns itself away. But…” he tips his head, considering, then says: “I have an alternate proposal for you.”*Jon goes into an unintended heat while at work. Elias offers to help him through it.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 48
Kudos: 448
Collections: End-of-Year Exchange 2019





	A Lovely Way To Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sajwho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sajwho/gifts).



> A gift for Saj in the Artefact Storage End Of Year Exchange! Hope you like it! 
> 
> Thanks to the fabulous [fatal_drum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/) for the always excellent beta work. Any remaining errors are my own. 
> 
> A quick anatomy note: this fic uses “cock” for alpha genitals, and “clit”, “cunt” for omega genitals, regardless of gender. 
> 
> Title, of course, is from "Fever", as sung by the inimitable Peggy Lee.

Jon wakes up feverish, and by the time he gets to work he can’t deny that he’s getting sick. He helps himself to a couple of paracetamol from the first aid kit, and makes a mental note to pick up some proper cold medication on his way home; he’ll dose this thing into submission before it can get any worse. 

He settles in to read a statement, and is so lost in the follow up that it’s mid afternoon before he registers how bad the fever has gotten. His entire body is hot, shivers running through him in waves. A slow, unpleasant realization dawns on him as he _smells_ himself, the thick reek of it. He frantically checks the calendar.

“Shit!” he says, then: “Fuck.”

Stupid, bloody _stupid._ He’s always been so good about keeping tabs on his cycle, setting reminders and making sure to visit his GP several weeks before his heat is due to get a check up, taking his prescribed course of suppressants diligently. Up until now, because he’s been so caught up in this damn _job,_ these archives, trying to make sense of the mess Gertrude Robinson left behind, that he forgot. _Forgot_ , god.

“Fuck,” Jon says again, and gets up from his desk, agitated. His head spins as he stands, and the few steps from his desk to the couch feel a lot further than usual. He flops down heavily onto the sofa, which is strewn with extra blankets and cushions. He’s been hoarding them for the past week, and they are, now that he actually thinks about it, very obviously a makeshift nest _._

“Probably should have noticed that, eh?” he mutters dryly to himself. He’d brushed it off as just the cold weather and the fact that he was spending a lot of nights sleeping here. _God,_ how could he have been so absolutely blind to what was happening? He pulls a heavy knitted blanket around his shoulders, and allows himself a minute to swear silently, his head sunk into his hands. 

“Right,” he says, after a minute has passed. No point dwelling on how he let this happen. The question is, what to do now? The sensible thing would be to leave right away, go home sick and spend the next couple of days curled up in bed until the heat burns itself off. Except leaving would involve walking out past everyone, smelling of - well, smelling like he does, and everyone would know _._ And yes, Jon is aware that there’s nothing shameful about it, it happens to half the population, but it’s humiliating to have it happen like this. _Teenagers_ get their heat unexpectedly in public; adults know how to manage it, they take their suppressants, or they schedule a few days off at the appropriate time. 

He can just imagine the looks he’d get, the mutters behind his back, judgment - or worse, pity - _poor Jon_ , _the Head Archivist job really is too much for him, can’t even keep track of his cycle._ It doesn’t bear thinking about. 

No, the only sensible course of action is to lay low in his office until everyone leaves for the day, then go home and call in sick tomorrow. It’s not unusual for him to be the last one in the office, in any case. 

Jon locks the office door, and then shuffles back to his desk, taking the blanket with him. Might as well get on with some work if he’s going to be here late. At the very least it will provide a distraction. 

It’s after six o’clock when a tentative rap comes on his office door. He recognizes Martin’s knock immediately. 

“Not now,” Jon calls, trying to sound casual, “I’m recording.” 

“Oh, right!” Martin’s voice comes muffled through the door. “Just wanted to make sure everything’s okay, you’ve been locked in there all day.”

“Fine, thank you, Martin. Just busy.”

“Right.” There’s a creak of floorboards as Martin shifts his weight uncertainly outside the door, and with a shock, Jon realizes that he can _smell_ Martin, his nose sharpened by the blasted hormones. God, he hopes Martin can’t smell him in return; the very thought sends hot embarrassment rushing through him. 

Jon’s never had any cause to think about Martin _that_ way in the months they’ve worked together, but the musky scent reminds him of how Georgie used to smell, from time to time, a smell that is unmistakably alpha . With Georgie he always found it pleasant, appealing; now it sends a startling coil of heat through his belly and groin, wetness soaking into his briefs. He lets out a sharp breath, pressing his thighs together hard. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Martin says, and Jon could cry with frustration. Why won’t he just _go away?_

“I’m fine!” he calls again. “Really, you should go home, Martin, it’s late.” 

“Okay,” Martin says. “Just make sure you go home soon too, yeah? You need to rest some time.”

“I - I will, I promise.” 

“Night, Jon.” 

“Yes, g-good night, Martin.” The floorboard creaks again as Martin departs, and Jon closes his eyes in relief. Martin’s scent lingers in his nostrils, and his body is flushing hotter than ever. He’s so aroused it’s painful, and he can barely move without whimpering, his breath coming quick and shallow. Jon bites his lip. Maybe if he can just...take the edge off, he’ll be able to make it home without embarrassing himself too much. The idea of masturbating in his workplace is - well, it’s utterly inappropriate, to say the least, but Jon doesn’t think he has a lot of choice. 

He undoes his fly and slips his hand into his briefs. The fabric is damp, and the smell of his own heat is even stronger now. Jon’s breath catches at the first brush of his fingers against his clit, the stiff nub of it thrusting up from between his folds. He slides his fingers down to his slit, hot and swollen and so sensitive that he groans, probing for the entrance. It’s incredibly slick, and three fingers slip inside easily, thrust up into his cunt as he huffs out a pleasured breath. He pushes his fingers inside as deep as they’ll go, and it’s not nearly enough to fill him, but it’s enough to feel good. 

The heel of his hand presses into his clit and he rocks against it, his hips moving in small circles that send sweet jolts of pleasure through his body. He moans out loud now, can’t help himself, as he races towards climax, his body tensed and trembling in anticipation, his eyes squeezed shut.

The floorboard creaks and a key scrapes in the lock, and Jon yanks his hand out of his pants as the door opens and Elias stands there. He’s well aware of how he looks, flushed and sweating, his trousers hanging open and his fingers slick with his own fluids, the room stinking of his heat. Humiliation burns in Jon’s cheeks, but Elias only quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Jon, are you quite all right?”

“Elias, I - it’s not - ” _what it looks like,_ he doesn’t say, because it’s exactly what it looks like. Instead, he stutters a demand: “What are you doing letting yourself into my office?”

Elias steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

“I needed your staff schedule for next month. I didn’t realize you were...still here.” His brow furrows, stern. “Honestly, Jon, I know you’re devoted to your work, but you shouldn’t be in the office during a heat.” 

“I - I didn’t intend to be. It was a - an accident. I...lost track of things. Forgot to get my suppressants.”

“I see,” Elias says gravely, walking around the desk as Jon fumbles his zipper closed. This close the smell of musk, of alpha _,_ assails his senses, and Jon’s breath catches. His cunt throbs in time to his pulse. 

“I just need to get home,” Jon explains. “And - and take a couple of days off. To recover.”

Elias nods thoughtfully. As Jon starts to get to his feet, Elias’ hand lands on his shoulder, pressing him back down. Jon goes, unsure if he’s about to be fired or just scolded.

“You could go home,” Elias says thoughtfully. “Spend the next couple of days aching and miserable, until the heat finally burns itself away. But…” he tips his head, considering, then says: “I have an alternate proposal for you.”

“A...proposal?” Jon feels his heart rate jump. Elias can’t be about to suggest what Jon thinks he is, can he? It’s absurd; he’s Jon’s boss, it would go against all ideas of propriety. And he’s never thought of Elias that way, even now the idea of - of having _sex_ with him makes Jon’s rational brain recoil, though his body throbs with _yes_ and _want_ and _please._ Elias smiles, and kneads his shoulder gently.

“Hear me out, Jon. This would be an entirely practical arrangement, no strings attached. My husband and I are - not to be indelicate - both alpha. It’s a bit unorthodox, but we make it work. However we do both enjoy the occasional liaison with omega individuals in, well, your current condition. We’ve always found it to be a very satisfactory arrangement, both for us, and for our partners. Certainly far more pleasant than going through a heat alone. So, what do you think?”

“You’re _married?”_ is all Jon can think to say. Elias gives a small moue of annoyance, and raises his left hand to show the gold band circling his ring finger. 

“Yes, I’m married. It’s not entirely unthinkable, is it?”

Jon supposes it isn’t, though he’s never imagined Elias outside of this place, doing things that real people do. Then again he never imagined he’d be considering having sex with Elias before this evening, either; never imagined that he’d be in full-blown heat in his workplace, fingering himself at his desk. Never imagined a lot of things, did he? 

He has to say no, of course. It’s ridiculous to even consider it. Even if there’s a part of him that is desperately _curious_ about what it would be like, to give up control of himself, let his animal instincts run wild. He’d spoken to Georgie about it, once, asked if she'd knot him. He’d wanted to know what it would feel like. She’d said no, that heat was special, to be shared with someone because you wanted it with that person, not just to satisfy your curiosity. She was probably correct, but now he’s in this situation regardless of whether he wants to be, and Elias is offering him this choice, this opportunity to know and understand. 

“Yes," he says. "All right.”

“Wonderful,” says Elias. “Give me a few minutes to call ahead and gather what I need, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.” His tone is crisp and business-like. His hand squeezes for a moment at the juncture of Jon’s throat and shoulder, sending a fresh wave of heat through his body. Then Elias leaves him alone. 

Jon panics quietly as he collects his belongings and pulls on his jacket. He’d be panicking more loudly, he thinks, except that this all feels utterly surreal. He’s lightheaded with fever and the traces of Elias’ scent lingering on his skin. Excitement and nervousness war for space in his hindbrain. 

Jon steals upstairs as quietly as he can, relieved to find the lobby empty. After a little while Elias descends. He’s holding a briefcase in one hand, and has a large, dark blue coat slung over his arm, although he’s already wearing one. He sets the briefcase down, and shakes the coat out in both hands. 

“This belongs to my husband,” he explains. “You should get accustomed to his scent, before you meet him.” 

Jon doesn’t know whether that’s strictly necessary, but it seems Elias has more practical experience with heats than he does, so he allows the coat to be draped around his shoulders. It’s heavy, and soft where the high collar brushes his cheek, and it smells of salt and musk. Despite himself, Jon pushes his nose into the fabric, inhaling deeply; it sends ripples of desire through him. When he glances up, Elias looks pleased.

“Good,” he says. “Let’s go - the car is waiting.”

The drive to Elias’ home seems to take forever, and by the time they arrive Jon is shaking, burning up, sunk deep into the soft fabric of the coat and dizzied with its scent. Before he can rouse himself to get the door open, Elias has already come around and opened it for him, taking Jon’s elbow to guide him out, an oddly quaint gesture. 

It’s less quaint when Elias’ other arm snakes around his waist, pulling Jon close against his side. Jon wants to protest at the presumption of it, but instead he hears a soft, pleasured sigh escape him, his body relaxing against Elias’. He’s too dazed to even be embarrassed by it, and he inhales Elias’ scent, mingled with that of the coat. It’s intoxicating, sends arousal spearing through him, a fresh rush of wet heat. 

“Peter!” Elias calls as he opens the door. The man who emerges into the foyer is tall, handsome, Jon supposes, in a rugged sort of way, but what strikes Jon immediately is the _smell_ of him, the same salt-and-musk tang as the coat, but so much _stronger_. Peter looks at him, then to Elias, a faint smile on his lips. 

“This is him, then?” His voice is warm and sends a pleasant tingle down Jon’s spine. Wrapping the shreds of his dignity around himself, Jon steps forward and extends his hand. 

“Jonathan Sims,” he says. Peter’s hand is cool, the skin rough, and his grip is firm.

“A pleasure,” he says, and tugs gently, pulling Jon off balance and towards him. Jon gasps, and Peter’s other hand lands on his hip, steadying him.

“Peter,” Elias says, fond but firm. “Why don’t you show Jon upstairs, and I’ll be there presently. Jon, you look a little tense. Would you like a drink? A glass of wine, maybe?”

“Uh, no, I - I’m fine.” Jon’s thoughts are hazy enough as it is, he doesn’t think adding alcohol to the mix would be a good idea. 

“Come on, then,” Peter says cheerfully, and nudges Jon ahead of him up the stairs. Jon is embarrassed at how easy it is to follow the direction; a shiver runs through him at the feeling of Peter’s hand in the small of his back, his breath cool on the back of Jon’s neck. He steers Jon down the long landing to a closed door. Jon tries it, finds it locked, and with a chuckle Peter leans past him with the key, his body pressing against Jon’s. Jon grits his teeth against the whimper that rises in his throat, Peter’s scent overwhelming him. 

“There we go,” he says, opening the door. The room beyond is plain, but tastefully decorated. There’s a large, iron-framed bed, a wardrobe and chest of drawers, a mirror covering most of one wall. Peter walks forward, backing Jon against the wall as his heart races and his cheeks burn. “Elias tells me you two work together.”

“Uh, well I work for him, I suppose. I’m the Head Archivist.”

“An important role,” says Peter solemnly. He is very close now, and Jon’s whole body is trembling with anticipation. He’s never imagined this, _wanting_ a perfect stranger in this way, but Peter’s smell makes him dizzy, and his calm confidence rouses something in Jon that aches to be _owned._ “Elias also tells me that you don’t normally share your heat with anyone. What a shame that is.”

Elias has no call to even _know_ about Jon’s personal habits, never mind tell anyone else, and he opens his mouth to protest. Except then Peter’s cool hand cups his cheek, and his other hand presses to the front of Jon’s trousers, knuckles rubbing against his clit, and Jon whimpers instead. 

“Don’t worry, Archivist,” Peter tells him, pressing a soft kiss to his throat. “We’re going to take very good care of you.”

Jon is already aroused beyond belief from his interrupted wank earlier, and the thick, heady scents of the two alphas has driven his desire to fever pitch. His hips rock helplessly as Peter’s knuckles work against his erect clit, panting and moaning. Some part of him is aware and aghast at his own behavior, rubbing off against Peter’s hand with humiliating eagerness, but the rest of him is utterly lost in the pleasure of this, the absolute need to come. 

“Please…” he almost sobs, pushing his hips forward. Peter growls softly against his jaw. 

“You look very nice like this,” he says. “And you’ll look even better with my knot in you.”

Jon shudders against him and comes, shoving his hand into his mouth and biting down on a cry. Peter nuzzles against his ear, as Jon pants through the aftershocks of his orgasm. His entire body feels at once electrified and drained. 

“Does that feel better?” Peter asks solicitously, and it does, but it isn’t enough, he needs _more._ He surges against Peter and kisses him, wet and open mouthed, moans into his mouth as Peter’s arms go around him, dragging him close. Jon wants more, _more,_ and he pushes against Peter as close as he can, nips at his mouth and whines. 

“You didn’t waste any time, I see,” Elias says from the doorway, amused. Jon gasps as Peter releases him, and leans against the wall, trembling, his legs suddenly weak. 

“We were just getting to know each other,” Peter replies cheekily, and winks at Jon. Elias rolls his eyes and approaches, holding out a manila folder. 

“What’s this?”

“The most recent sexual health screenings for both Peter and I, as well as our birth control prescription records. We want this to be a safe and enjoyable experience for you.”

“Ah, right,” says Jon, taking the folder and leafing through it. “I, uh, I didn’t bring any paperwork.” Elias smiles at that.

“That’s quite all right. I trust very highly in your sense of propriety, Jon. Of course we can still use condoms, if you think it’s necessary?”

“It’ll feel a lot better without them,” Peter adds. “For you, I mean. I’ve heard from plenty of omegas, it’s not nearly as good if you don’t get filled up with spunk.”

Jon flushes hot with embarrassment and arousal at the mental image that supplies. 

“That’s - that’s fine. We don’t need condoms.” Jon hands back the folder. He didn’t read the details, but he knows that Elias is meticulous and principled, not the sort to behave unsafely with a sexual partner. And they work together, how would it possibly benefit Elias to deceive him? 

“We’re going to have a very nice time,” Peter promises, leaning in to kiss him again. Jon sighs into his mouth, as Peter’s hand slides down between his thighs. Then Elias is crowding in beside Peter, pressing kisses along Jon’s jaw and up to his ear. Their hands are all over him, their scents mingling and surrounding him, and Jon slumps against the wall, letting them hold his weight, fisting his hands into their clothing wherever he can reach.

“Let’s get you naked and get a cock in you,” Peter purrs against his ear, and Jon moans. They strip his clothes and their own with practiced efficiency. Jon’s never had cause to imagine Elias naked, but now the sight makes his mouth water, makes him crave skin to skin. Both of them are hard, and _big._ Jon knows anatomy, knows that male alphas on average tend to be more well-endowed than their female counterparts, just as there are differences in anatomy between male and female omegas, but seeing it in real life is startling, when his only other practical experience was with Georgie. He can’t stop staring, and Peter grins at him. 

“Like what you see?” 

“Honestly, Peter,” Elias chides, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You need some new lines. Come here, Jon.” Jon does, and Elias pulls him into his lap, the hot length of his cock pressing between Jon’s thighs, against his slit. His hands roam over Jon’s chest and belly and thighs, spreading his legs apart so Peter can kneel between them. Peter nuzzles into Jon’s mound, nosing at the damp curls, and his thumbs part Jon’s folds so he can lick inside. 

“He’s very wet,” Peter comments, and Jon whimpers as Peter’s tongue curls around his clit. “Practically dripping.”

“Mmm, I can feel it,” says Elias, kissing the base of Jon’s neck. “He’s ready to be fucked. Desperate for it, I’d say.”

It’s humiliating, being talked about as if he wasn’t even here, but somehow that just makes Jon flush hotter, as the two of them fondle him with casual ownership. Peter’s hands tuck under his thighs and lift him a few inches, and before he can say anything Elias’ cock is pushing inside him, hard and thick, making him moan. 

“Lovely,” Elias says breathily. “So _tight._ ” His hips shift, driving his cock even deeper, and Jon gasps as Elias begins to fuck him with slow, careful thrusts. 

“Don’t tell me this is your very first time being fucked,” says Peter, sounding delighted. Jon shakes his head, blushing with embarrassment. He’s had sex before, there were times when Georgie would finger him open and slip inside, and they’d rock together gently while she worked his clit. Sometimes she would come, and sometimes they both would, and it was warm and pleasant and intimate. But it’s been a long time, and it was nothing like this, the raging _need_ burning through him, the waves of hot arousal at each thrust of Elias’ cock inside him, faster now, deep and hard. 

“It’s not my - ” He breaks off with a whimper as Peter sucks his clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, and his hands fist into Peter’s hair. Peter is relentless, his mouth hot and clever, and soon Jon is coming, gasping and moaning, his cunt clenching around Elias’ cock. Elias makes a low sound at that and stiffens against him, and Jon feels a spurt of liquid heat. He trusts Elias’ assurances, but still a faint thrill goes through him, part fear and part excitement. He’s still breathing hard when Peter pulls him off Elias’ softening cock and arranges him on the bed, face down and arse in the air. 

“More’s the pity you’re not a virgin,” he says conversationally, pushing his cock into Jon’s cunt so roughly that Jon’s sliding against the mattress, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets for purchase. “But you are still nice and tight, and so _wet._ Such a perfect little slut.” 

A shameful groan escapes Jon at that. Peter laughs and drives deeper into him, one hand anchoring Jon’s hip and the other crawling down to work at his tender clit, until Jon is whining with overstimulation, coming again with a cry that’s almost a sob. Peter fucks him through it, and then pulls out and comes over Jon’s arse and back. Jon groans with frustration because he wanted that _in him,_ with such desperation that it’s nearly a physical pain. Peter slaps him on the arse playfully. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up soon enough.”

Jon rolls over onto his back, almost too overwhelmed to talk, his body still shivering with feverish heat. He doesn’t think he could possibly take any more, and yet when Peter’s thick fingers start stroking over his mound he spreads his legs with a soft moan, arousal curling in his belly. Elias leans over him, stroking the sweat damp hair back from his forehead. 

“You’re doing wonderfully, Jon,” he says, and Jon flushes at the praise. “How are you feeling?”

“I…” Jon pants, rolling his hips against Peter’s fingers. “I - I need more.”

“Of course,” says Elias, solicitous. He goes to the chest of drawers and returns with a thick, curved rabbit vibrator, slicks it and works it slowly into Jon’s cunt. Jon gasps at the girth of it, larger than either man’s cock, stretching him wide and deep. Elias turns it on to the lowest setting, thrumming inside him and against the length of his clit. It feels good, more than good, and Jon sighs with pleasure. 

“It may be a little while before Peter and I are ready to knot you,” Elias tells him. “The heat pheromones do take some time to take effect, especially at our age.”

“Speak for yourself,” Peter snorts. He bites at Elias’ shoulder playfully. Elias rolls his eyes, and turns up the setting on the vibrator, and orgasm sweeps over Jon abruptly, startling a cry from his throat, his chest heaving. 

“Until then, this should help to take the edge off.” 

The vibrator stays buried in his cunt, Elias and Peter playing with the settings to make him moan or whimper or sob, like he’s a favorite toy. The two of them surround him, stroking proprietary hands all over him, cool against his heated skin, nosing at his throat, kissing him deep, kissing each other across his fevered body. Jon has never felt so wanted, so _owned,_ and somewhere deep inside him it feels good and right. Arousal rages through him like a wildfire, stoked by the possessive touches, the musky scent of alpha. He loses count of how many times he comes, nestled between them. Every time he thinks he can’t take any more, another climax wrings itself slow and trembling from him. 

“You’re doing so well, Jon,” Elias tells him, licking a stripe up Jon’s neck so he shivers and moans. 

“Lovely little slut,” Peter tells him, rubbing his cock against Jon’s hip. It’s hard again, stiff and dark red, and Jon can see how it’s thickening at the base, the knot already preparing to form. 

“Please…” Jon breathes, clutching at Peter, at Elias as he spreads Jon’s thighs apart, working the vibrator carefully out of him. Elias’ fingers close around his clit, stroking and pinching, and Jon is shaking and coming again, almost sobbing. 

“Shh,” says Elias, “You’re okay. How would you like for Peter and I to knot you now, Jon?” 

“Yes, yes, I want it, _please.”_ A tiny voice in the back of Jon’s head tells him he’s being pathetic, begging to be fucked, to be _owned,_ but it’s drowned out by the dizzying swell of desire, his pulse pounding in his ears and throbbing in his cunt. He wants this, and maybe tomorrow he’ll feel like a fool, but right now he doesn’t care. 

“Your Archivist really is very eager, Elias,” says Peter, shuffling up until he’s sitting against the bedframe and pulling Jon into his lap. Jon is about to protest that he has a _name_ , but then Peter’s fingers rub up between the swollen lips of his cunt and he loses his train of thought. 

“He was the only choice for the position,” Elias says coolly, his hands at Jon’s waist, helping him to sink down onto Peter’s cock. It feels so good inside him, hard and thick, and Jon rocks forward against Peter, whining, petting his hands over Peter’s chest and shoulders. The salt and musk scent makes him dizzy with want, and he presses his nose into Peter’s throat, mouthing desperately at the skin. Elias’ hands stroke over his back, his breath warm in Jon’s ear.

“Are you ready for more, Jon?” he asks, and Jon shivers as he feels Elias’ cock against him, pressing into the juncture where he and Peter are conjoined. 

“Yes,” he moans, grinding down on Peter. “Please, yes.” 

Elias presses warm against Jon’s back, kissing his shoulder. Peter’s cock slides almost all the way out of him, only the head still inside, and Jon trembles with anticipation as Elias’ cock nudges in alongside it. The lips of his cunt stretch wide as it pushes inside, making him moan. 

“Oh, Jon,” Elias breathes, “You’re so wet for us.” 

“Absolutely sopping,” Peter agrees. “Like the greedy whore he is.” 

Jon flushes hot at the humiliating praise, and whimpers low in his throat as both of them begin to work their cocks into him, their hands holding him in place as they open him up slowly, inch by inch. He scrabbles at Peter’s shoulders for purchase, groaning at the stretch and ache of it. 

“It’s too much,” he hears himself moan, “I can’t...”

“Nearly there, Jon,” Elias says against his ear. “You’re doing so well, and it’s going to feel so good.”

By the time they’re both fully seated in his cunt Jon is nearly sobbing, his breath coming in little hiccuping pants, slumped back against Elias’ chest. It’s so much, every little movement feels like it’s going to tear him apart. There are hands on his hips and in his hair, soft praise murmured in his ear, wet kisses pressed to his throat and his shoulders. 

“That sweet pussy of yours is going to drive me mad,” Peter growls against his cheek, his hips canting up, driving his cock just a little further so that Jon gasps. “That and the _smell_ of you.” He inhales against Jon’s skin, nips at his jaw, his ear. Jon curls his hands into Peter’s hair and kisses him, open mouthed and desperate, whining deep in his throat. Peter laughs when they break apart, and looks over his shoulder at Elias. 

“I still miss you being omega sometimes,” he says wistfully. 

“Shut up, Peter,” Elias snaps, and before Jon can ask what he’s talking about, Elias thrusts in hard and starts fucking him in earnest, knocking the thought from his head. Peter moves in eager counterpoint, their cocks sliding together inside him, filling him to his limit and beyond, and Jon can only go with it, moaning in incoherent pleasure-pain as his body clutches them deep inside. 

“I’m going to knot your tight little cunt,” Peter tells him, his hand sliding down between them to work Jon’s clit. “I’m going to fill you up with my spunk.”

“Yes…” Jon whimpers, and: “Peter…” 

“Such a pity I can’t get you pregnant.” Peter’s voice is low and heated. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I put a baby in you, filled you up all round and helpless and _mine.”_

The idea is terrifying and thrilling, and Jon moans, lightheaded. 

“Now, Peter,” Elias says, his tone reasonable. “You know it would be _our_ baby, because there’s no way we could tell which of us put it in Jon. He’s taking it so well from both of us. You’re right, though, pregnancy would suit him _very_ well.” 

His arms wrap around Jon’s waist. One hand moves down to his mound, tangling with Peter’s, rubbing over his clit and his slick folds. The other splays across his belly, stroking in possessive circles.

“Would you like that, Jon?” Elias whispers in his ear. “To carry our baby for us? You’d stay here with us, and we’d look after you, watch as you get bigger and rounder and softer, and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything, just let us take care of you.” 

Jon comes with a hoarse cry, his hips bucking and his cunt clenching hard around both their cocks, and he hears Peter give a low groan as his cock swells wide at the base, filling Jon even more completely. 

“Oh that’s it, you greedy slut!” Peter gasps, thrusting up into him hard, and Jon feels liquid heat fill his cunt as Peter comes. Elias is close behind, breathing hard, biting at Jon’s throat and still stroking his belly as he knots and comes with a quiet groan, his semen flooding Jon’s cunt to mix with Peter’s.

Jon is panting, dazed and impossibly full, stretched and filled beyond even his wildest imagining. He feels Peter shift against him, as if to pull out, and Jon gasps as the knot catches inside him. Peter chuckles. 

“Nice and tight in there.” 

“Yes,” Jon agrees shakily, “It is.”

“How does it _feel,_ Jon?” Elias asks, solicitous. It feels...amazing, if Jon’s entirely honest. It takes his breath away to be so full,held safe in Elias and Peter’s arms, their musky scent surrounding him, their hard cocks lodged inside him, sending little thrills of pleasure through him with every movement. To _belong_ to them, utterly, knotted and stuffed with their come, wanting nothing more than to give himself up to their care, their desires. 

He doesn’t say any of that, of course; blissed out as he is he’s not that far gone. Instead he just says:

“It...it feels good.” 

“Good,” Elias breathes, as pleased as if Jon had voiced all the carnal instincts running through his mind. He gently turns Jon’s head so he can kiss him, a surprisingly tender gesture that snatches Jon’s breath away. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

“Not to spoil the moment,” says Peter, “But maybe we could change position? My arse is going to sleep.” 

They manoeuver carefully, with little hisses of discomfort as a knot catches or a joint twists the wrong way, until they’re lying down with Jon between them. Their limbs are thrown over his body, a comforting weight, their chests rising and falling against him as they breathe. Jon is warm and sated and utterly exhausted, his eyelids drooping. He can still feel the heat burning through him, but it’s no longer raging. The fire has subsided to embers in his belly, stirring faintly at each shift of the knots inside him, and slowly, reality starts to reassert itself.

“How long does the - the knotting usually last?” he asks. Elias makes a quiet humming sound. 

“Anything from half an hour to a couple of hours, depending on circumstances. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking that I should be getting on soon. Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Peter laughs at that, the sound rumbling through Jon’s chest, and even Elias gives a little huff of amusement. 

“Jon, you couldn’t possibly overstay your welcome, when you’ve been such a wonderful guest.” 

“You’re not going anywhere tonight, Archivist,” Peter tells him. “Because I’m going to sleep right here and I won’t be moved until morning.”

“Oh, I - right,” says Jon, flustered. He was prepared for the sex, for a certain value of _prepared,_ but not for this gentle afterglow, this warm possessiveness _,_ and it’s silly that this is what’s overwhelming him, but here they are. He blinks wetness away from his eyes - _bloody hormones_ \- and tucks his forehead against Peter’s shoulder, cool against his still-heated skin. Elias kisses his shoulder, and wraps an arm more tightly around him. 

“You know your heat isn’t over yet, Jon,” he says. “You’re feeling better for now because you’ve been fucked and knotted quite thoroughly, if I do say so myself. But you likely have another day or two before it abates. If you’d like, we’d love to have you stay with us for the duration.” 

Elias’ soft words from earlier come back, _you’d stay here with us, and we’d look after you,_ and Jon knows it was just dirty talk, but he can’t help a soft sigh escaping him at the thought. It would be so nice, not to have to worry about anything for a little while, the mess of the Archives or those strange, compelling statements that leave him so shaken, the fact that he really has no idea what he’s doing. Just for a couple of days, it would be nice. 

“I think...I think I’d like that,” he says, and lets his eyes fall closed, relaxing into the warm embrace of his alphas.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [@cuttoothed](https://cuttoothed.tumblr.com/)


End file.
